9974/A Mysterious Transmission: Reaching Out

A Mysterious Transmission: Reaching Out
Date of Scene:	09 November 2019
Location:	Frontyard - Xavier's School
Synopsis:	Nightingale, Techno, and Triage seek advice and assistance from Captain Rogers on the matter of the mysterious transmission; plans and friends are made, and messages of gratitude sent!
Cast of Characters:	Nightingale, Triage, Samuel Morgan, Captain America

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Nightingale has posed:
     While down by Breakstone Lake, testing out a new camera and gearing up for an aerial survey of the grounds, Shannon's phone had begun it's little buzzing dance in her pocket, as if she had a bumblebee trapped in there. She's quick to finish the gingersnap that was to become fuel for her flight and brushes her hands off on her jeans, pulling her phone from her pocket. Her eyebrows loft quickly, and for a few moments there's dead silence. "Chris... mind sending a message to Bean? Got a reply to one of those messages." She pauses, biting her lower lip. "Might want to give him a heads up." There were very few that warranted that sort of gravity and respect, and left little doubt as to who was en route.

     A quick reply is tapped out and sent, even as she is en route to the front of the school. <<En route with teammates. Thanks for the assist.>>

Triage has posed:
As soon as he sees that look Chris knows. Something big has happened. While Shannon reads the message and then responds, he quickly stuffs things into the backpack. He pulls his own phone from a pocket. "I'm on it. Do we have a location?" he asks. Fingers fly over the screen and then his thumb hits the Send button. Almost immediately, they hear the familiar ping of the encrypted message launching like a missile into cyberspace on its way to Bean.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    Inside the garage, an engine is turning over, running at idle with occasional throttling up. There are audible clicks, a few louder pops during the sequence, and then the engine revvs up again, to a chorus of different clicks and burbling pops, indicative of a timing gear being re-adjusted. In his coveralls, Bean is happily at work, having spent all of the morning after the morning run on yet another escorted trip to the city. Not too long now...

    His eyebrows lift when the message comes in, and the engine is shut down without any controls being touched. Well... he's hardly dressed for the occasion, but he shoots a message back while wiping his hands on a somewhat greasy rag. <<On my way.>>

    Tools properly stowed, he walks to the large garage doors which open for him as he approaches, and heads across the drive way to the front door... at least his boots are properly polished.

Captain America has posed:
No rain today and despite the near-winter cold, the Captain has still elected to ride his motorcycle out of the city to the private property of the school. Its rolling rumble can be heard long before it reaches the gates of the long drive extending out before the front steps. Once the bike is pulled up and off to one side, its stand kicked and motor quieted, Steve dismounts. In a shearling-lined leather jacket looking something straight out of the 40s, jeans and combat boots, the blond's hair is covered (along with the tips of his ears) by a navy-blue stocking cap against chill. His smile for the collective on the steps is kind if professional. Stopping short of the steps, he slips hands in the pockets of his coat, projecting enviable calm.

"Way that text was phrased, it sounded a bit like an emergency. Staff knows about the situation if so?" Despite the mild tone, his true-blue eyes are keen as he looks from Shannon and then to Triage and to Bean in turn.

Nightingale has posed:
     Would that Shannon were quite as calm. As much as this had promised to be a molt-free day, her slightly ragged wings looked as if they might drop another feather in short order. The young teen nods, scratching the back of her head. "Thanks for answering, and I'm sorry if this is any trouble to you. But yeah, we've looped in our team lead, Sam... well, Cannonball... it gets confusing, having two Sam's, so we stick with nicknames. Mr. McCoy's also seen what we're about to show you, and while we've tried to raise Logan and Kitty on this, there hasn't been a reply yet, but we're not counting them out, either. Suffice it to say, we've got one heck of a head-scratcher on our hands here. You'll see why."

     She swipes through to a recording on her phone and passes it over to Captain Rogers; it's the old radio in the foyer, long dead but somehow come to life, and transmitting a message that sounds as if it ought to be coming from a science fiction novel.

     Begin Transmission

Hello,

My name is Doctor Mohammad Scott, and I am a researcher within the AIM Site-13 Temporal Studies division. The date is 13 November, 1989.

Myself and my team were abandoned within Site-13 during a recent catastrophic event, the full details of which we do not know.

We are currently surrounded by hostile entities and other hazardous anomalies. Of the original thirty members of my team, only twelve remain.

To any AIM operatives listening on this channel, we are asking for assistance. Our supplies are dangerously low, as is our ammunition. Without aid, it is unlikely that we will last more than another month.

The transmission is wired by dead man's switch to myself, and will be played on a continuous loop until such time that I die.

Please help us. Thank you."


This is followed by a burst of static that has order to it - almost like a puzzle that's been put together wrong. That must be the encrypted information he spoke of. This is followed by a simple "Transmission repeats." and then the broadcast starts again...

Triage has posed:
Chris's eyes track the captain through his approach and dismount. He remains near Shannon, wearing jeans, hiking boots, and a warm jacket over a bright yellow sweatshirt. Dangling from his left shoulder is an old military surplus medic's kit, and in his left hand is a quarterstaff, held in a relaxed posture. He reaches to place his other hand on Shannon's arm. His eyes close for a moment and then open to refocus in their visitor. "We've ensured that the chain of command at our end knows, sir," he answers. Then he glances toward Bean and nods.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "We've cracked the encryption on the data..." Bean elaborates, leaving it as a broad 'we' team effort rather than naming who crunched through the raw dataset. He's standing more relaxed than usual, no longer at parade rest but at something approximating a teenager's natural pose. "It was, as expected, appended to the original message in the static, hidden in the frequency modulation. It gives a set of coordinates in the south west, to be specific Big Bend national park in Texas, down to four decimal points on both coordinate sets. It also includes where to find the team inside the complex, the code for the gate and the code for the secondary lock, with a warning not to look at the walls." Yeah, he's... not sure about that one either.

    "I have a copy of the data available, raw and decoded, with a copy of the decryption key used in case your people have any other old AIM messages they've intercepted and not decoded. Time is a bit of the essence, but considering this is AIM, and they've clearly been messing with time travel, we figured you would like to know and potentially assist. As it stands..." and here he seems to get a bit nervous, about to make a request of the Captain. "... as it stands, I would like the use of SHIELD's satellite uplink system, because the message, I suspect, was bounced off an old bird that's not supposed to be there."

Captain America has posed:
"Good." The senior SHIELD agent is mollified to hear of immediate resources being used. With care, Steve takes Shannon's phone in his palm. At first, he peers at the screen, but as the transmission goes on, his frown deepens and his gaze slides off to one side. He's listening not only to the words, but for background noises -- sounds that might better identify the situation at hand captured in the recording.

"AIM..." he murmurs quietly to himself before glancing up at the group. "Temporal studies involves time, that much I know off the bat. Something coined 'catastrophic' would be in files somewhere in the company, even if most of it was redacted." It's Bean's request, however, that garners him the Captain's full attention. While not deliberately discomfiting, there is a weight to his regard, solemn as it is.

"Any requisition of SHIELD resources'll need to go through Acting Director May first, especially if it might involve a lost bird. I'll take a copy of the data, however." Steve offers Shannon's phone back to her now.

Nightingale has posed:
     Shannon cracks a bit of a smile. "You did say if a stand was made, to do it with the school. But you never said not to reach out to allies in the process." The impact of that day was clearly still felt, and perhaps would be for a lifetime. She accepts her phone from the Captain, and nods to Chris and Bean. "Of course, we're more than happy to share that data. If it would be of any help, we could get a copy of that recording to you as well. Can you see why we wanted another pair of eyeballs on this one?" With the way this meeting was progressing, it seems to calm the young woman a great deal, her posture becoming more relaxed. "We recognize your time is sometimes scarce, but anything would be a blessing, and we're grateful for your willingness to help."

Triage has posed:
Chris casts a glance to Bean. Shifting his quarterstaff to his right hand for a moment, he dips his left hand into his pocket. He pinches a nondescript memory stick between finger and thumb, and steps forward. "We anticipated that one of our superiors or you might need this," he explains, offering the stick to the captain. "Everything that we recorded, including the encrypted part of the message, is there. If you need to take the radio for inspection, I suspect that staff will agree to that as well."

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    Bean nods to Triage, glad that he handed over the stick. He probably has more copies, but it's important that the right people have an immediate copy as soon as possible. "Everything is time stamped, so you can run it against atmospheric events as well. The Aurora was visible that evening, which may be significant."

    He's not pressing anything further, hands now clasped behind his back. "If you could put in that request with the Director, I would be most grateful. And please, do also give my best regards and my gratitude to Mister Barnes. He... helped me tremendously, and the information he gave me was most useful. He'll know what that means."

Captain America has posed:
Chris's offered memory stick is taken. Unzipping his motorcycle jacket, Steve glances up obliquely between speakers as the small memory device is slipped into an internal pocket, this which is zipped up before the main pull of the tab brings his coat closed once more against November chill.

"We'll see what Director May has to say about the radio. For now, keep it here on campus and someplace safe, out of immediate reach of anybody with curious fingers." It'd be a shame if it were dismantled before it was of further use, after all. Bean garners himself another look.

"I'll pass on word to Agent Barnes, sure," the Captain adds evenly.

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon lofts her eyebrows and casts a sidelong glance at Bean. A rare, genuine smile quirks the corners of her lips upwards. "So that's who's been helping you with Bear?" Her smile only widens as she turns back to the Captain. "If it's no trouble, then, please, could you pass on thanks from me as well? It means the world to see one of my best friends so happy for once." She pauses, considering, and then shifts forward slightly, keeping her voice down, for the Captain's ears only.

Triage has posed:
Chris remains where he stood before Shannon steps forward, but he inclines his head to the captain. "Yes sir, we're grateful for any help that we've received or will receive," He, too, glances to Bean before returning his attention to the captain. "We blocked access to the radio immediately. We didn't want to move it until we knew whether any involved parties need to examine it. Now, we can relocate it." He watches Shannon and allows himself to smile, knowing as he does that this is a rare privilege for her.

Samuel Morgan has posed:
    "... Him and Lilly." Bean admits, looking at the sky with a faint smile on his face. Again he could see the horizon, just a bit brighter than before, and the smile deepens until he comes back to the present, his focus back on the conversational partners. "Anything further you need, let us know. Obviously we're keen to help out on this."

Captain America has posed:
"Of course. I'll pass on word from all of you to him," the Captain confirms as to speaking with Bucky. Shannon in particular gets a curt nod of confirmation for her whispered query.

"We'll see what Director May has to say about the satellite feeds," he continues, looking between all three of them. "She might reach out to Doctor McCoy first, given he's aware of the situation at hand. You may be contacted by other SHIELD members in the process. We'll try to keep school staff involved for the sake of everyone's sanity. I know unpredictability's a thing around here, but the paper shufflers dislike it more'n papercuts." The quip is dry and knowing. Even Steve shuffles papers at the Triskelion now and then.

"You've got my number. Text me again if you need to."

Nightingale has posed:
Shannon cracks something of a smile, and inclines her head in turn. "I'll try not to be a pest," she offers, chuckling lightly. "Though I might not be so silent around the holidays." My, my, my, what could the winged healer be up to? "Meantime, we've got to go touch base with a few folks on this and make sure everyone stays up to speed. Thank you so much, for everything."

Triage has posed:
Again, Chris steps forward and nods. "Thank you sir," he answers. "We know that you and others are busy and would not have intruded unless we believed that this might be something requiring your attention. It's a puzzle, and lives might be at stake. That drove our intentions, to see that none suffer or die needlessly." He steps back and glances to Shannon, leaning to whisper something to her.